


Lessons in Friendship 1 - A Glimpse at PTSD

by TheGracefulBlueCat



Series: Lessons in Friendship [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Episode: s01e02 The Blind Banker, Episode: s01e03 The Great Game, Flashbacks, Friendship, Gen, John being irritated, Mild Language, Missing Scene, PTSD John, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sarah after the Banker-case, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-06
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-20 04:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2414750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGracefulBlueCat/pseuds/TheGracefulBlueCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After what happened at the pool with Moriarty, in the beginning of SiB, John has a flashback and Sherlock wants to know about it. No First Person POV but almost entirely form Sherlock's side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> Standard disclaimer: Sherlock, John and all other mentioned characters belong to BBC and the guys who invented them. I just borrowed them for fun. I wrote this for my personal delight and improving my English, no copyright infringement intended. No money changed hands and no profit is being made. 
> 
> Many thanks to my betareader Graveofthefireflies!  
> I have no medical knowledge and do not know if i followed the right procedures!

 

 

Sherlock had known what PTSD was in theory before he had met John Watson. ProbablyHad probably known more than most people, but not more than what have fitted on fifteen pages in a psychology journal. He had known what events might cause a trauma of that kind and that symptoms might be flashbacks, panic attacks, triggers and physical reactions to mental pain. He also knew that there were several totally different ways to approach the problem. Lots of therapies contained elements of traditional Chinese medicine, some REM, some tried to evade reliving and triggering, and some were about constantly confronting the patient with it.

When John had moved in he briefly mentioned his diagnosis (which Sherlock had already guessed himself) but they never really talked about it in detail.

Because John never showed any signs that seemed related to PTSD Sherlock hadn't considered it a serious problem, especially not after John's limp had gone a lot better during their first case.

John was kind of closelipped about the topic, he never spoke about it and evaded the topic when asked, at least the few times Sherlock had been present.

Now and then the detective saw a hint of hobbling when John was in emotional stress, but it vanished within days and he doubted anybody else saw it. John was never seen with the crutch again after the cabby-chase.

The first time he ever got a small glimpse of what might have been a sympthom of PTSD was when John, Sarah and Sherlock had come home after the end of the banker-case. Sarah wanted John to go to the hospital for x-rays and observation but he refused.  
Sarah had been shaken pretty badly herself but had taken care of cleaning and bandaging the wound on John's head. While she did John had sat there staring blindly ahead, unmoving. Sarah had obviously been irritated bythat and Sherlock asked himself if she knew about the PTSD, and if she did if she would recognise any signs. Sarah had finally clapped her hands in front of the former army doctor's face and he had slightly jerked and expressed he had been somewhere else for a moment, deep in thought. Sarah had raised her eyebrows but left it alone.  
John had tried to convince her to stay if she didn't want to be alone but she wanted to go home. She told Sherlock more than once to check on John every two hours minimum, and to call if he showed any odd behaviour. Sherlock made her recite every symthom that might fall into the description of odd and she had left.  
It left him a little flattered that she had told him it was _his_ task to care for his friend now, since she was too shaken and exhausted and Sherlock was obviously fine and knew John better and longer than she did.  
He considered John a friend, he had since the end of the pink-case, but when he had introduced John to Sebastian earlier as his 'friend' John had corrected him with the word 'colleague'.  
Was it because he wasn't sure if Sherlock was his friend?  
…Or because he didn't like that he might mistakenly considered Sherlock's boyfriend?  
Or might it have been inappropriate to introduce him like that? Better to say colleague at their work because it sounded more professional?  
Maybe it was just too early for him to define their relationship as friendship… There was something about trust issues, right?  
He had no other friends, but John's behaviour was kind and caring so he had interpreted it as friendship… but John was kind to everybody else, too… maybe it was just part of his personality? Sherlock decided to start a sub-routine running in the back of his mind that observed John's view of the topic friendship and stored it in close proximity to the program that monitored signs of PTSD, but which had been idle since he had started it. The program hadn't written even a single entry into his mind's manila folder which was in the file-cabinet that was labeled with the name John. He wondered why John had a file cabinet in his mind while almost all other people (except Mycroft, who also had a file cabinet) had a kind of database without a physical association in his mind.

The image of a file cabinet for storing peoples' facts and behaviour patterns in varying situations, their favours, and everything else, he had established as a kid. He remembered when he had seen on of those large storage objects at a library and had immediately converted the concept for his mind's use. He had been about five at that time… maybe it was because computers hadn't been an everyday occurrence back then and he had started transferring concepts of operating systems and programming when he had learned to use them, which was around the time when he was a teenager.

Mycroft's cabinet was made out of dark wood and looked like a really old antique.

John's was made out of ivory painted metal and looked solid, and rather new.

 

About two hours after Sarah had left his PTSD-monitoring-routine kicked in for the first time.

He had gone into John's room to wake him as he was told, and check him for symptoms of a concussion. He was irritated when he found John breathing rapidly in his uneasy sleep.

Sherlock just observed the man in the bed and compared what he saw with all the things he knew about concussions. When he found nothing finally he realised it might be a nightmare.

"John?…" he tried, standing a bit lost next to the bed. "John, wake up!"

But John didn't seem to notice him.

Sherlock leaned closer, seeing sweat on John's brow and a clenched jaw.

He hesitated, not sure on how to go on.  
Was it allowed for him to touch him? He hadn't really touched John before, not without glovces or other fabric in between. Though the touch a bit earlier was quite intimate - as he thought about it later and he came to the conclusion it had been inappropriate. He had grabbed John's head when trying to make him remember the graffiti. John had grimaced and tensed up, clearly in discomfort, but had not pushed him away.  
Why not? Sherlock had shifted his hands to his upper arms realizing the discomfort he caused, but continued to spin him around. It had taken several turns until John had pushed past his stunned immobility and had escaped his hands.

Sherlock didn't like to touch people, but being touched was far worse. He had only touched John because he had worn gloves and was sure this would turn down his and John's discomfort in equal measures.

Sherlock kept his distance now. Standing there he wondered if he should belatedly tag this behaviour as might-go-into-the PTSD-rubric? Had John been stunned back then because it was a trigger? No, John was used to touches and had not shown any signs of distress.

But maybe nightmares were caused by the PTSD?

"John?" He asked again, louder this time.

John gave a muted whimper.

"Wake up!"

John jerked awake and sat up, obviously distressed.

Clearly not the best choice to wake him like that. Try different next time.

"God, Sherlock, what is it?" He panted. Lifting his hand to his throbbing head.

"I want to check if you are coherent and wake normally." Sherlock informed, still keeping his distance.

"I am fine, ok? So leave me alone." He turned his back to Sherlock.

"Would you please tell me today's date?" Sherlock asked, using 'please' to be nice.

"Leave it, I'm fine… would you let me sleep, please."

Sherlock hesitated a moment but was sure if John was in a bad way he'd not have answered like that.

He returned to his computer and set his alarmclock for two hours.

 

**02:08**

Sherlock switched off the alarm before it had a chance to ring.

Seconds later he stood in front of John's bed again, he seemed to be sleeping normally this time.

The detective leaned closer and tried to speak more soothingly than last time.

"John?… Would you wake up for me?… John?"

John blinked awake.

"Uh, dammit, Sherlock, what is it now?"

"Want to know if you are alright…"

"I _would_ be if I could get some decent sleep. Would you stop that! I am fine, you don't need to wake me up every hour, my concussion does NOT need monitoring!" He sounded unnerved.

So he knew where he was and knew what had happened. Good. Sherlock left the room.

 

**04:08**

Two hours later he went in there again.

John's face was sweaty once more and he looked pale.

Sherlock though about taking his pulse but stepped back when John moved.

"God, no… She'd dead… God, no…" John whispered, almost not understandable.

"John, are you with me?" No reaction.

John's head moved from one side to the other as if he was trying to shake some memories off.

"John!" Trying louder this time.

John opened his eyes and blinked, obviously only half awake.

"Can you hear me?" Sherlock started… Maybe it was time to be less superficial Sherlock decided, diversion from having him wake up again.

"What did you dream about?"

"Nothing." John mumbled and sat up.

"You seemed distressed."

"Leave it…"

"I want to know."

John rolled his eyes. "Soo Lin."

"What about her?"

"She is dead for god's sake!"

"Yes. Obviously."

"Shit, do you care at all?… We should have stayed with her… Maybe she'd be still alive if we did!... Or at least if I did."

Oh, now Sherlock understood. John was feeling guilty or blaming himself or something?

What would be an appropriate response to that? He searched the database and it took some moments until he came up with a reply.

"You can't change what happened. It's no use to … " Sherlock informed.

"Why do you ask about my distress? Just to tell me I am wrongly having emotions?" John interrupted him.

"I …" Sherlock was not sure what to say, he had only wanted to say something nice.

"Let me sleep, Sherlock." The doctor turned away once more.

"Sarah told me to look after you."

"So, you're doing this _not_ because I mean anything to you as a friend, but just because she told you to?"

"No, I do it because it is my duty as a friend."

Sherlock turned and went back to the kitchen, wondering what he did wrong, obviously however he did try to be a friend was misunderstood or not the right thing at the right time.

At first he decided that nightmare had not been related to PTSD and that feeling bad about loosing a life is probably more a doctor-thing than a trauma-thing. He once more wondered what exactly had traumatised John in the beginning. Loosing too many friends or patients and the circumstances of that process might cause trauma, though… maybe it was a PTSD thing after all? He left the entry in there and added a section where to store things that had a questionmark written over the information.

 

**6:08**

The next time he should have woken the other man was not necessary because John stood up to go to the bathroom and then had a shower.

Sherlock prepared a pot of tea for breakfast.

They met at the kitchen table where John sat down to stare at the picture of the graffiti again.

"So nine mill…. Nine million… " He read out loud what Sherlock had written over the picture while Sherlock filled their cups with tea. They agreed to go to the bank again and ask the PA about the pin.

 

 


	2. The Pool

 

 

Several days later they found themselves in a pool area with John wearing a suicide bomber belt involuntarily.

First they thought the situation was solved, because Moriarty had simply left - how disappointing.

Sherlock saw John sway and ripped the bomb of him, the other man was pale and looked drained.

The detective wondered what had happened to him in the hours since he had left the flat.

He asked about his wellbeing.

It was the second time Sherlock asked John about how he felt in just a few hours. He had never given such questions much attention before in his life, but during the past weeks had found it might be relevant to the outcome of cases.

The first time he had asked such a question was when they had sat at the café having breakfast, after John had claimed he was getting sick with the lack of food their constant search had caused.

Sherlock had remembered to ask after John and that other people needed a pit stop. Since it was something he'd forget regularly, he had decided to learn to ask such things… Eating: _dull_ , echoed through his mind every time once more when they sat there, at least John didn't any longer get on his nerves by trying to convince him to eat, too.

The doctor's color had improved after he had eaten, which confirmed that it was necessary to at least sometimes be aware that John needed nutrients. He was definitely more difficult to handle without a certain amount of sleep, tea, coffee and meals, slowing him down more than usual, which was inconvenient. Bottom line: easier to give him the few minutes his body needed than cope with the lack of brainpower.

 

"Alright? Are you alright?" Sherlock was getting nervous when he didn't get an answer immediately.

When Sherlock tried to free John of the bomb vest John stumbled and made a joke about being glad that none saw them, but then he knelt down and leaned on a changing cubicle, pale and shaking. Sherlock was - for the first time in a very long time - really wrought up with the whole thing. But John's reaction was a bit freaking him out, the stress that was so clear on John's face and in his posture seemed to kickstart something in Sherlock that felt foreign and absolutely disconcerting. As if John's trembling was contagious it shook Sherlock's core somehow, an absolutely new and odd sensation. He realized he was scratching his head with the gun, dumb thing, really, and out of character… because: not very professional, and he hated being not professional.

He ranted about some nonsense, trying to ease John's…? Agitation?… No, not anxiety… Maybe only the adrenaline waering off, a bit early for that though. Well at least he was not too messed up the remember he had decided to be a bit kinder to John. He had in fact tried to smile at John during the the past days, though he still was not sure if it looked convincing. Friends smiled at each other, didn't they?… And he needed to contradict the fact that John was so disappointed with him and had expressed his displeasure about Sherlock's behaviour repeatedly in the past month.

Moriarty had invaded something… Stepped over a line, but Sherlock wasn't able to name the line yet.

A part of his brain was near panic while another tried to point out the line when a third one kicked in: John, distressed, not able to stand. Shock? Hurt somewhere Sherlock couldn't see?

What had happened to John before he had entered the pool area?

Closer evaluation necessary.

He headed towards the doctor but that was when he heard the door open again and Moriarty came back.

No, he hadn't seen this coming, too! Second time in one hour!

New routine: never let your guard down when dealing with Moriarty!

But the situation got dangerously close to an unpleasant end until the evil man's phone had rang… then it dissolved again when he just left with to take care of more important things.

This time, neither John nor Sherlock even tried to relax.

Sherlock phoned Lestrade for a SWAT team while he dragged John to his feet and they stumbled out of the pool area.

They left the building through the back exit and John was not steady on his feet and trembling, it disturbed his walking.

Delayed fear reaction? Or just the cold without his jacket?

Clenched jaw, slight frown, distant gaze… not the cold. Distant gaze?… Shock!… Shell shock? - expression from WW1 and 2 for PTSD, also called 'Thousand Yard Stare' - check for response to be sure. This was the first time the monitor-PTSD-rountine kicked in, more delayed than he liked, but that was probably due to his own disconcerted state. So, PTSD trigger?

"John?…" No answer. "John, are you alright?"

They stood in the back alley, leaned against some wall and panted. It was dark. He gently took John's shoulder.

"John!... Answer me! Do you need to go to a hospital?" He was a doctor, he would know if he was physically hurt or if he needed medical attention.

No reaction.

He grabbed his wrist. Pulse: thready and fast, breathing: panting, seemed an effort, shock due to stress presumably, keep person warm to prevent state from becoming life-threatening.

He slipped out of his coat and carefully manhandled John into it, who wasn't helping but also not resisting. Sirens in the distance.

"John, please answer me…" Sherlock beggend but John only stared blindly ahead.

"John, I need you here! Your medical knowledge is needed!" Sherlock's voice was raised and the whole thing distressed him more and more, too.

He flipped his fingers in front of John's eyes and this was when John gasped and started to move. But his legs wouldn't carry him and he started sliding down the wall.

Sherlock caught him and held him upright. A few moments later John found his balance and leaned heavily against the wall but stood alone. Sherlock let go.

"What did just happen, John?"

John looked disoriented and was very pale.

"I don't know…. "

"You weren't responding and just staring ahead…"

"I… know." The doctor swallowed.

"Are you alright? Are you in shock? Do you need to go to the hospital?" Sherlock repeated.

"'m fine. Just a flashback, nothing to worry."

"You are not fine…. What does a doctor do when a person has a flashback?" The detective tried.

"Not now, Sherlock,… please." John tried to reclaim his composure, frowning when he realized Sherlock was only in his suit jacket and looked around for the coat.

When he shivered once more Sherlock grabbed the coat's front and wrapped it tighter around him? John looked down and saw himself wrapped in Sherlock's coat.

"Why am I wearing your coat? What the hell happened?" He himself knew where he had been, in a combat situation in Afghanistan, but what had happened in the real world during that time? Shit, he hadn't had a flashback in months, he had hoped that he was over those finally.

"I feared you might be in shock, so I tried to keep you warm. Lestrade is coming."

Sherlock wanted to tell John indirectly if he didn't want to be seen wearing the coat now would be the best time to get rid of it. But John wasn't reacting, probably because he was still to far away to understand the hint.

Lestrade came around the corner and ran towards them only moments later.

"I want to go home." John whispered in a tight voice.

"We will, as soon as possible."

.

John convinced the ambulance crew he was fine and after a short examination they let him go. He gratefull took the shock blanket, though. Sherlock excused them and they were allowed to leave since they promised to come to Scotland Yard first thing in the morning.

When they arrived home and John started to make tea immediately, still wrapped in the bright orange blanket.

Sherlock sat in his comforter with his coat on, no time for unnecessary stuff, the activated monitoring routine needed attention.

"John, how often do you get flashbacks?" He asked.

"Sherlock, I am not in the mood to discuss this."

"I need to know!"

"What for?… To evaluate how nuts I am?..."

Aggressive tone, insulted?

"I don't think you are nuts."

"Really? Why not? Psychosomatic limping is considered pretty nuts by most people…"

So, not insulted, more like protection from further hurt?

Was that why John never told anybody he was shot in the _shoulder_? He left everybody to believe their own wrong conclusion that he was hit in the leg, didn't correct them.

He also never mentions his PTSD to anybody. Nobody except Sherlock seemed to know his leg was physically okay. Had he been hurt by people treating him as if he had a defective mind?

He himself had known all his life that he was different, but never considered himself damaged, though he knew other people did. People called him 'freak' and other names, but he had learned to live with it.

He knew his social skills weren't the best, he knew he had more brains than a lot of other people and he knew other people's senses were blind and deaf in comparison with his.

But people didn't like to realise others were smarter, it made them hostile or trying to prove they were smart themselves all the time. He had accepted it and partly encapsulated himself.

But John was an open, friendly character, a fully functioning member of society and now his world was upside down and his PTSD prevented him from functioning on a satisfactory level in his profession, robbing him of his job as a soldier and army doctor, rendering him unable to work fully.

Was he himself thinking he was damaged goods?

Or made other people think him that? His self-consciousness had obviously been affected since he was shot.

Had he himself added to that?

Probably.

Had he wanted to do that?

No!… He might have been careless.

But John was a friend and he wanted to care. Though this was kind of an unexplored area.

So he started a new routine that should prevent him from saying things to John that might be condescending.

"I am frequently called a freak, and I don't think you are nuts. And since we live and work together I want to know what I can do to understand, prevent and be of assistance in case help is needed. One day it might be the small thing that makes the difference."

"You mean you're afraid that I blow it and you can't compensate?" John was getting more hostile by the minute.

"I consider you a friend and I want to help."

"Now, what makes you think I want the help of someone who doesn't want my help himself, and who pushes me away or is rude whenever I try?" John stood up. "A friend would accept my help, too, Sherlock… Besides, I like friends to be eye-to-eye… I'll have a shower." And he was gone.

Was that it? Was it impossible for John to entrust Sherlock with his most vulnerable topic? Was he afraid Sherlock might rampage there?… Had he done that before or too often around John?

John was right, he pushed him away when he was vulnerable, in pain or depressed or overwhelmed with something. When John had offered help in the past he had regularly rejected it. …Even though John was a doctor he had avoided to ask him for help when his tranport was physically affected. He kept quiet about things that a doctor could take care off or should have been entrusted with (like being almost choked to death by a Chinese villain). Okay, so to get trust you have to give some, he knew that… but he was so out of practice to trust, he had forgotten it worked that way with normal people…

So, entrust John with a bit more of his own vulnerabilities… and give some more care about the doctor's needs, he had already started to practise that… and google in depth what to do when flashbacks happen and how triggering works…

But the thing with eye to eye he didn't understood. But right now was not the moment to ask, he might check that concept on google, too, though he knew the meaning of the word he wasn't sure why John assumed it wasn't present, or had he said it for another reason?

Was it an exclusion criterion?

The idea felt dark purple and ugly.

Didn't John want to be his friend at all? But John had said he 'liked friends to be' like this, was that a challenge? An invitation to learn how friendship worked in detail? Although the tone had more made it sound like an exclusion criterion. He needed to evade rejection, because the idea of John being disappointed had felt not good either.

He surely needed to gather a lot of data concerning that topic. Thankfully John was usually prepared to explain human nature, inappropriateness and sentiment to him when need arises. He needed data…

He wanted John's friendship…. definitely.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not a native speaker and hope you will excuse my typos and grammar mistakes, constructive criticism welcome.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N:  
> This is the start of a series called 'Lessons in Frienship'.  
> Please let me know what you think and write a comment. :)


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